


My Fair Lady

by littleliontree (gentledusk)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentledusk/pseuds/littleliontree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Lysandre/Sycamore. Augustine is the castle librarian and scholar, and he is totally smitten with his queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Power dynamics are always fun to explore, as are alternate universes. This one in particular is very fun to write, what with Augustine swooning over queen Lysandra practically every time he interacts with her. Dust, I uploaded this because of you.

“My lady,” says one of her councillors, trotting along behind her.

She looks behind her briefly to see which one it is—today it is one of the stick-in-the-mud ones, the ones who mutter amongst themselves when they think her back is turned about her ‘brazenly flaunting’ her power and freedom. Really, she thinks her ladies-in-waiting would make much better councillors than this one, but the nobility is a delicate system and those old fools complain enough as it is. She doesn’t really feel like dealing with a potential revolt at this point in time.

“Have you given any thought to finding a husband to rule over the land with you?”

“Why?” asks Lysandra. “Do you question my ability?”

“N-No, m-my lady, of course not,” he stammers out hastily. “I only meant that there is the matter of an heir to the throne—you are not getting any younger, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. And, well, it may do the kingdom well to have a husband by your side, to present a stronger image to neighbouring lands…I know some of those kings have expressed interest in wooing you, my lady, and some of the local noblemen as well—”

“ _Enough,_ ” Lysandra says sharply, and the councillor’s mouth slams shut immediately. “I have no need for those boorish _swine_ who only see me as a potential stepping-stone to power, as a mere pawn in a scheme to gain control over this nation. I will not give up my position as ruler and caretaker of this country to some _idiot_ who only views both myself and the land as some sort of _conquest_. I will not lower myself to wedding some man who sees me as a pretty little _figurehead_ who will bear his children and indulge his whims as he sits on _my_ throne, driving this land to ruin with his incompetence. I have seen the men you propose for me to choose a spouse from, and I want nothing to do with any of them. _If_ I marry, I will do so of my own free will, and on my own terms. Do. I. Make. Myself. _Clear?”_

“Y-Yes, m’lady!” the councillor squeaks, quailing in the face of her fiery glare.

“Dismissed,” she says curtly, and the councillor immediately grabs his chance to escape and scurries away without a word.

~

“’Find a husband’, he says,” she mutters darkly to herself as she sweeps down the hall. “As if I haven’t got better things to be troubling myself with than exchanging false pleasantries with those pretentious, uncultured—”

“Greetings, your Majesty!” a familiar voice calls. “And how are you this fine and lovely evening?”

“Not amused,” she grumbles, turning towards the castle librarian, Augustine, who has now managed to catch up with her.

“Oh,” he says, smile faltering at her tone. “What ever is the matter, my lady?”

“Augustine, I’ve told you, there’s no need for you to be so formal with me in private. Just ‘Lysandra’ will do.”

“O-Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” says Augustine, waving his hands at her frantically. “That would be terribly improper of me, I’m just a librarian, after all, and you’re the queen—”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” Lysandra interrupts. “Each person has the ability to contribute to the world in their own way. Just as there are many types of Pokémon in this world, so too are there many kinds of people, each with their own special abilities. You are a librarian, yes, and a scholar, as well. A ‘commoner’ you may be, but that does not mean you are worth any less than any of those foolish, air-headed nobles who would look down their noses at you simply because of your status. In fact, I value you quite highly for your contributions to our knowledge of Pokémon and your genuine passion for your work. If there were more people like you, the world would be a better place.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” says Augustine, a faint pink blush tinting his cheeks at her words. “You are as gracious as you are wise. I-we are truly fortunate to have you as our ruler.”

If it were anyone else speaking to her in such a manner, she would immediately classify the words as meaningless flattery, an attempt to get into her good graces, perhaps. With Augustine, though, she knows that he truly means every word he says when he compliments her like this, and that honesty is one of the (several) things she appreciates about him. “Thank you for your kind words, Augustine. Though, evidently, not everyone feels the same about my position as ruler…”

“What makes you say that?” asks Augustine, sounding shocked at the very idea of anyone taking issue with her position as queen.

“My councillors have been dropping not-so-subtle hints for quite a while now that I should be looking for a husband from their pre-approved list of suitors for ‘the good of the kingdom’.”

“O-Oh,” says Augustine, looking suddenly crestfallen. “Have they?”

“They have. One of them outright said as much to me earlier. I have no doubt some of them are conspiring with certain nobles on the list to seize power away from me. The rest of them are simply old fools who simply cannot swallow the idea of a lone woman being the head of the country and its army, despite what they spout about heirs and continuing my legacy or uniting nations by marriage. As if a country is lacking something when it is ruled by a woman alone. Have you ever heard anyone use the term ‘queendom’ before? I am a perfectly capable ruler without an overbearing husband to ‘keep me in check’, as I have no doubt is the intention of those pompous imbeciles who would like nothing better than to see their own idea of a ‘good ruler’ put on the throne, one who actually listens to the worthless drivel that comes out of their mouths—what on earth is so _funny_?” she demands as Augustine bursts into laughter, clutching his sides helplessly. Is he _mocking_ her?

“I-It’s just…” he finally gasps out, looking up at her sheepishly, “I doubt there is any man, or any person, really, who could dare hope to control you. It would be foolish to even try!”

“Indeed it would,” she says, smiling wryly. “I would have some choice words for any such person. Or perhaps they would prefer to test my blade in combat.”

This prompts another laugh out of Augustine. “You’d most likely send them home in tears either way, my lady! Your command of your words is matched only by your command of your weapon. You truly are a force to be reckoned with, my lady.”

“I…my thanks,” she says, a bit taken aback by his effusive praise. “It is very kind of you to say so.”

“Not kind, my lady, merely honest! There is no other I would rather have as my queen. Er. We,” he says, coughing awkwardly. “I meant we, of course. There is no other we, your loyal subjects, would rather have as our queen. Yes. I’m not the only one who admires—er, _appreciates_ you and all you’ve done, your Majesty.”

“Not all would be so quick to agree with your sentiments,” Lysandra says, amused at his sudden awkwardness, “but thank you, nonetheless. Good night, Augustine.”

“Good night, my lady.”

~

“The queen spoke to me again today!” Augustine practically squeals, flinging himself onto his bed and clutching Buttercup, his Eevee, to his chest.

Mademoiselle Chompy, his Gabite, looks at him reprovingly from the corner of the room.

“Aww, don’t look at me like that! She asked me to call her by her name again today! I refused, of course, I couldn’t possibly…I mean, our difference in class, it’s just…but the fact that she’s willing to speak to me as an _equal_!”

Buttercup bats at him with her paws, squirming around a little in his grip and turning her head to stare at him.

“Really! Today she said she values me for my knowledge and passion for my work! She’s so kind…and gracious…and beautiful…do you know, I heard some of the servants gossiping about how the queen saved them from a life out on the streets by offering them jobs in the castle? She’s so caring…and compassionate…to everyone! Well, maybe not to those pompous nobles who come in every so often to talk her ear off…erm, don’t tell anyone I said that, all right?”

Buttercup tilts her head at him. Mademoiselle Chompy simply stares silently.

“Well, I guess you can’t, anyway, no one would understand you!” Augustine says, chuckling. “She also doesn’t seem very fond of her current councillors, especially when they keep trying to get her to pick a husband…or those stupid suitors they’ve picked to come parading in, vying for her hand in marriage…”

Mademoiselle Chompy snorts.

“I know, I know, don’t worry,” he sighs, letting go of Buttercup and sitting up on the bed. “I know I haven’t got a chance. No chance. At all. She’s the _queen_ , after all, and, well, no matter how kind her words were to me, I’m still just a librarian. And a scholar, I suppose. Still, certainly no one a queen would consider within any stretch of the imagination. But there’s no harm in dreaming, right?”

Mademoiselle Chompy gives him a look filled with what might just be pity before closing her eyes and curling up on her straw bed for the night. Buttercup curls up next to him as he flops back down onto his bed, pulling the blanket up over the both of them and blowing out the candle by his bedside. He falls asleep to thoughts of her smile and her words of thanks, dreaming of her sweeping him off his feet—no matter that these things are usually the other way around, in the stories. Lysandra is a strong and capable warrior, probably strong enough to lift a skinny twig like him effortlessly, and the idea of being swept up in those strong arms and pressed close to that ample chest does have a certain… _appeal_ …


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sina and Dexio tease Augustine about his not-so-little crush on Her Majesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept almost writing them calling Augustine 'Professor', but he's not a professor here, so.

“Where should I put these books, sir?”

“Sina, I’ve told you before, just call me Augustine,” he replies absently, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Those ones can go in the history section.”

“And where should I put these ones, sir?”

“You too, Dexio, just call me Augustine,” he says to his other aide, furtively stealing a glance out the window. “Those ones can go in the medicine section.”

“I think you’re the one who needs some medicine, si—Augustine,” says Sina, smirking for some unfathomable reason.

What? She thinks he’s ill? Isn’t it terribly cruel to take amusement in others’ illness? “Whatever for? Am I sick?” he asks.

“ _Love_ sick, maybe,” Dexio says, snickering at the shocked look on Augustine’s face. “Don’t look so shocked, sir—Augustine, I mean. You’re not exactly very subtle about it. I mean, come on, even Buttercup and Chompy—”

“That’s _Mademoiselle_ Chompy, thank you very much!”

“—have noticed it. It’s so obvious!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Augustine huffs, crossing his arms and trying his best to glare reprovingly at the duo.

“What, you mean you don’t recall all those times you’d practically fall all over yourself to do something she’d asked of you?”

“Or how about the way you light up every time she visits the library?”

“Or how you sigh forlornly every time she leaves?”

“Or the way you practically sing her praises every time you talk about her?”

“Or how grumpy you get whenever any suitors come to court her, locking yourself in your study?”

“All right, all right, enough!” says Augustine, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You’ve been watching her fight again, haven’t you? You’ve been doing that sneaky-but-not-really-sneaky glancing out the window thing.”

“W-What? What are you talking about?”

“You do it every time Her Majesty is out training! What do you even think about, huh? What’s so interesting about it?”

“I bet he thinks about her ‘luscious thighs’,” Sina says slyly, nudging Dexio with her elbow, “and how she could ‘crush the skulls of her enemies with them’.”

“Wha—what—I never said that!” Augustine sputters indignantly, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

Both Sina and Dexio burst out laughing at that. “What, no ‘such beauty, such ferocity, she’s like a ravaging lioness in battle, all fluid grace and vicious command of her weapon’?” says Dexio in a poor imitation of Augustine’s voice (he definitelydoes not sound that…that _smitten_ , and he _definitely_ has never said anything of the sort).

“Do you dream about her sweeping you off your feet?” Sina asks with an impish smile, winking at Augustine. “I bet she could! Her Majesty is one strong lady, that’s for sure. Or maybe you imagine her hauling you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes as a ‘conquest’ after battle?”

“I do _not_!” he protests, feeling as if his face is on fire. “No more! No more! Away with you, you horrible, horrible sadists!”

Sina and Dexio, apparently deciding they’ve teased him enough for one day, thankfully scurry off without a word, clutching their books and laughing as they go to their respective sections.

“Thank Arceus…” he mutters, rubbing his forehead as he shuts the door to his mercifully quiet study. “’Sack of potatoes’, indeed…”

Now that his tormentors are gone, Augustine can finally get back to what he was doing before they came in—reading a thoroughly engrossing manuscript on theories of Pokémon evolution. After about ten minutes of staring blankly at the exact same sentence without actually reading it, he is forced to admit to himself that he probably won’t be getting any reading done when he can still hear the sounds of combat drifting up from the training field below. Almost resignedly, he gets up and walks over to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of his queen.

Lysandra is fighting in the single combat arena now, and despite her opponent being bigger and, probably, stronger than her (he knows it is possible, despite what he likes to think about her being the strongest) she still retains that same calm, cool, and elegant composure that makes her such a formidable opponent in battles of wit as well. She is tall, for a woman, taller than Augustine, even, though he’s certainly not complaining about the way she towers over him in heels…Here on the battlefield, though, she’s used to having to deal with opponents who often outmatch her in brute strength, and it shows in her fighting style. She does not charge recklessly into attacks like her opponent is doing, instead choosing to display her sinuous strength through skilful swordplay and well-timed blocks, dodging her opponent’s clumsy attacks with the grace of a dancer and striking back with brutal efficiency. Soon enough, the poor fellow lands flat on his back, and Lysandra slams one booted foot down onto his armoured chest, the tip of her sword hovering dangerously close to his neck.

_Ouch,_ thinks Augustine without a hint of real sympathy. She doesn’t normally do the boot-slamming thing, so the poor fool must have done something to make her angry. Probably another new recruit taking issue with a woman being their commander, thinking that it would be easy to take her down and show off their ‘amazing skills’. They had obviously had another thing coming to them—Queen Lysandra stands undefeated in the realm of single combat, and today’s match certainly hasn’t changed that. Augustine thinks he can even see a small group of soldiers elbowing each other and passing around bags of coins—bets on the match’s outcome, no doubt. The smart ones learned pretty quickly to bet on their queen, if they wanted to make a profit.

“ _Yield,_ ” Lysandra commands, voice sharp and clear even from his vantage point up here in his study, and a shiver runs down his spine at the word. _Yield._

She could make probably make him yield very easily, he thinks dizzily, leaning up against the wall for support. He wouldn’t even put up a fight or anything, all she’d have to do is say that word and he’d be on his knees in an instant, ready and willing to do whatever she saw fit to demand of him. He blushes when he realizes the implications of what he’s just thought—no, no, that’s not what he’d meant at all. His thoughts about the queen are pure and innocent, there is nothing _dirty_ about him being prepared to serve his queen, kneeling for her and listening to her purr orders at him in that dangerous, seductive, dangerously seductive voice—

“Arceus save me,” he says, very firmly cutting off that particular thought sequence and looking back out the window again. Lysandra has removed her foot from the man’s chestplate and is now pointing her sword at her soldiers, sweeping it in an arc as she turns to look at all of them. She’s probably asking if anyone else dares to question her worthiness as their commander (Augustine, of course, would never even think to question her worthiness). Seeing no new challengers stepping up, she apparently dismisses the soldiers, walking away and pulling off her helmet to reveal her mane of long, flaming red hair.

Despite how much he may have denied it, he has indeed imagined Lysandra sweeping him off his feet, and he has indeed imagined her picking him up and slinging him across her shoulder after battle, like her own personal ‘conquest’…with her all hot and sweaty and still flushed with exertion from the battle, carrying him to her room and practically throwing him onto her bed, pinning him down and straddling him with those no doubt muscular thighs and—

No. No, no, no, no, no. Nooooooooo. He will _not_ have indecent thoughts about the queen, he will not, he will _not—_

Augustine looks down at the front of his robes and sighs at what he sees. This is going to be one uncomfortable afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> I think Augustine will probably get promoted to royal advisor later on. Or maybe even royal consort. Who knows?
> 
> I am aware that the language they use isn't exactly period-appropriate, but the setting isn't exactly real-world either. It's more of a vaguely medieval-inspired land set in the past of the Pokémon world?


End file.
